Beautiful Tyrant (Enemies to Lovers - Dark Romance Book 3)

by C. P. Mandara

  'Go fuck yourself,' she replies, and her dark sable eyes spit fire in his direction. This turns Mal on. I can see it from a mile away. If I were her, I'd play the meek little pussycat because he's intent on putting her through hell. Takes one to know one.

  He slowly circles her, admiring my handiwork, while he swirls his whisky around in the glass.

  'You're not still counting on Brandt coming to your rescue you, are you?' A hand comes down to squeeze her ass, and she yells out loud. She's got good reason to. I've caned that ass to a pulp at Mal's request and it's black and blue, along with every other colour of the rainbow. I wince for her.

  'I'm not counting on anyone coming to rescue me,' she says feebly. 'I'd given up on that idea a long time ago. Why don't we just stop this nonsense? Let Gabriel go, and then you can concentrate on killing me. Let's just get on with this.'

  Mal shakes his head. 'Oh, I don't think so, 'Arper. I've got big plans for us and I don't intend to rush 'em. In fact, I've got a little video I want to share with you, as it 'appens.' He pulls an iPad out of the bedside drawer and switches it on. He then passes it over to Harper, who is so sick she can barely lift the thing. In a few seconds the sound of bells can be heard - wedding bells. Oh fuck. I know what he's showing her. The man is such an evil fucker.

  Harper's eyes are glued to the screen, and Mal watches her face with glee. He wants to hurt her in any way he can, and on the physical side of things he's running out of time. She bounces in and out of consciousness at the moment. He's becoming frustrated that she isn't more responsive. If he fed the poor girl it might help. She was already half-starved before she got here. There's only so many ways you can torture someone, and he's going to run out of options soon.

  Mal cares about none of this, of course. He's just interested in digging the knife in, as far and as deep as it will go. As Harper continues watching her fingers tighten around the screen. Her hands begin shaking as she realises exactly what she's watching. Mal doesn't say anything, he just drinks in her expression of pain. When the video clip is finally over he decides it's time to hammer his point home.

  'See how much your precious man cares about you? After he left you, it took him less than a week to move on. Seems he's really cut up about you, Harper. Looks like he's missing you dreadfully.' He's trying to make her believe that Brandt never cared about her. What he's failed to factor into the equation, is that Brandt had already told her he was being forced into marriage. While it might not make what she's watching any more palatable, she will at least understand it.

  'What a bastard, eh?' he sneers. 'Do you think we should kill him? I'd do that for you, Harper. I'd put an end to that miserable little shit. All you have to do is ask.'

  I now understand his game. He wants to kill Brandt, but he wants Harper to think it's her idea. It's going to backfire on him. I'm ninety-nine percent certain she's not going to play his game, which means he'll revert to Plan B, whatever that might be.

  'Finish me, Mal. I don't want anyone else killed. Brandt was never mine in the first place. We would never have worked. I told Alex this years ago, and you know it.' She lays the iPad back on the bed and pushes her head against the pillows, lost in thought. I suspect none of them are pleasant, but there isn't much I can do for her at the moment.

  Mal stares at her, and he looks like someone has just yanked the jam from his donut. He was almost positive she'd ask him to kill Brandt, and that hasn't happened. Poor baby. Score one for Harper.

  'Don't you have any pride?' he whispers. He can't understand why she's not mad as hell right now. Considering all the time they've spent together, he has underestimated the girl big time.

  'No. Alex took it away a long time ago, and you haven't done much for it since. I'm not mad. I'm not bothered. Finish this, Mal.' Her last words have bite. She's had enough, and I can't say I blame her.

  'You're still holding a candle for the guy, aren't you? Even after all these years, you still worship the fucking ground he walks on, don't you?' Mal is angry and has started pacing. It's clear today hasn't panned out the way he hoped it would.

  Harper doesn't say anything; she just looks at the floor, which confirms everything he's thinking. She should be denying this shit, if only to placate the bastard, but she does no such thing. I'm losing her. She can't even be bothered to play the game any more. I hope this doesn't backfire on her. Mal will want to hurt her even more after this, and I'm not sure I can beat the shit out of her again for his amusement. I might have to kill him. Yeah, we'll both die, but at least we'll go down quick.

  'What do you want from me, Mal?' she whispers. 'You made me watch while you killed my husband, and then you decided you'd take his place. Did you expect us to be best buddies after that? I'm broken. I'll always be fucking broken. Just because you picked up the pieces that were left, it doesn't mean you can figure out how to put them back together again. End this. I'm sick. I'm tired. If you don't end it soon, I'll die on you anyway.' Harper then picks up the iPad once more and throws it at him. She can't throw it very hard or far, but it does hit him before crashing to the floor. The splintering sound suggests that Mal won't be using it to show her any videos in the near future.

  His face darkens at her outburst. 'You aren't going anywhere unless I allow it!' he yells. 'I own you. If you don't want to take care of Brandt, that's your problem - but I'm going to.' He sits on the bed beside her and runs a single finger down her bruised body. Some of that work is his and some of its mine. I'm going to have nightmares about the stuff he's made me do to her, and I've never lost a day's sleep over anyone in my life, so that should tell you something.

  'Leave him be. He's suffered enough. Wasn't putting him in prison for five years enough for you? What more do you want?' I can see Harper's chest heaving as she struggles for air. Arguing with the monster is taking more energy than she's got to spare. She isn't going to make it through the evening. I need to get us out of here.

  Mal's finger digs between one of her ribs, making her gasp.

  'Remember that gun I had you plant on him, along with the drugs? Although his fingerprints were on it, they couldn't tie it to a crime at the time, could they?' His fingers are now running around in circles over her right breast, and I have a bad feeling about where this conversation is headed. 'That gun was used to kill someone, Harper. All it would take is a quick conversation with a copper, and they'll be able to find the body and bullet. Forensics will do the rest. Five years is nothing compared to the amount of time he'll spend inside for murder, especially as he'll be reoffending this time. It's awfully easy to kill someone when they're on the other side of those metal bars. I've already given the nod to one of my contacts. As soon as he's back inside, he's dead. Say your goodbye's, princess. He's not long for this world.'

  Harper comes to life pretty quickly. Jumping off the bed she stands in front of him and her fists pummel at his chest. 'No. You promised. You said you wouldn't hurt him. I've done what you've asked. Leave him out of this. He has nothing to do with it. What are you going to do, kill every damn bloke I take a glance at?' One of her fingernails scratches his cheek and he grabs her wrist in a vicious, vicelike grip. There's a scream, and for a moment I think he might have broken her arm. Thankfully she drags it away from him, so at least I know she's still in one piece.

  Mal doesn't take kindly to being pushed around though. He slaps her across the cheek with so much force she goes staggering backwards, and I'm tempted to dart halfway across the room to try and catch her. I don't, but it's only because I know I'd do her more harm than good.

  'If that's what it takes to make you see sense, precious, then yes. That's exactly what I'll do.' Mal puffs himself up like a lilo and sticks his chest in her face. Harper doesn't back down. I don't know whether to smack her upside the head for her stupidity or applaud her bravery. She's endured years of this. Anyone else would have gone stir crazy long ago.

  'You gonna kill him too?' Harper sticks a thumb over her shoulder my way. I look taken aback, but it's all an a
ct. I know damn well Mal's going to kill me. Actually, let me rephrase that. I know that Mal wants to kill me, and he's going to give it his best shot. I'm going to do my best to get the hell out of here before it comes to that.

  'Yes, of course I'm gonna kill him. I'm hardly likely to keep him around for a souvenir, am I? Why? Please don't tell me you like him too?' Mal's face darkens, but Harper throws her hands in the air and screams again.

  'What is wrong with you?' She sits back down on the bed. 'Fine, if you want to be an asshole you go ahead. I don't like the fucker anyway.' I don't take this as a personal insult. I know she's just trying to protect me. But she's wasting her breath. If Mal wants to end me, no one is going to get in his way.

  'Good. But I'm not going to kill him until we watch the footage of Brandt being arrested. Maybe I'll even drag it out until I put an end to the rich kid. They were friends, after all.'

  Those words make me want to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze for all they're worth, but I continue to lean nonchalantly against the wall, as if I haven't a care in the world. This is how Mal runs his empire. Intimidation and his ever-worsening reputation are the way he gets people to do his bidding with no questions asked. The more crazy-assed shit he pulls, the more his guys are scared of him - so it's a win/win as far as he's concerned. I know the score. It's not too different in prison. The stakes are higher here though. There's lots of money to be earned, and you've got to try your best to remain on the right side of the law if you want to enjoy your spoils. That generally involves more money, and quite a bit of corruption. I wonder who the bastard has screwed over in order to get where he is? There'll be a lot of people on his payroll, that much I know for sure.

  'When you die, I hope someone drags it out for the longest time possible,' Harper says sourly. Fuck. She's not even worried about getting into trouble now. The woman seems to be actively courting it. I can only limit the damage of what I do to her so much. Every time Mal makes me do his dirty work things get progressively worse, and I can't take much more of it. I'm amazed that she's still speaking to me as it is. If I'm honest, I'm amazed she's still alive, full stop.

  Mal stands in front of her, fuming, and then slaps her around the face again. 'When are you going to learn a little respect, darling? Why do you need to do everything the hard way?' It's a good fucking question. I wish she'd shut the hell up. I could use a break.

  'I'm bored with this, Mal. Had enough of the whole fucking deal. There's only so many times you can torment someone with the threat of death. I'm over it. I want to die. In fact, I'll beg you to end me on my knees if that'll get you excited. Just let me know.'

  His face tightens, his expression a black cloud of fury. Jesus Christ, what has she done now? I can't do damage control if she's pouring gasoline on the fire. Just gimme a fricking chance, woman. The way she's going there'll be nothing of her body left but ash.

  Mal spins around to face me. 'Get her on her knees. On the floor. Now!' He can barely talk with rage, and I don't make the mistake of disobeying him. Hauling her off the bed, I make it look like I'm slamming her into the concrete floor, but in reality her landing is a soft one.

  He walks around the bed until his shiny black loafers stop in front of her nose. I can see the tension vibrating through his body, and I'm desperately thinking of a way I can get her out of here without being shot. This is coming to crunch point. The trouble is, one wrong move on my part could end everything.

  He grabs a handful of her straggly brown locks and pulls her face up to his. 'Apologise for being a naughty girl, Harper, or I promise you won't like what comes next.'

  There's a period of horrible silence in which I pray with everything I have that she does as she's told. I don't want to be a party to this. Unfortunately for me, though, I'm an atheist and no God worth his salt is going to listen to my prayers very carefully.

  When she finally speaks her voice is reed thin. 'Fuck you. Hurt me already. It's what you do best, Mal. We both know that's what you live for. Isn't it a crying fucking shame that the first girl you fall in love with can't love you back?' Just to make her point clear, she spits in his face.

  Holy hell. That cat has some scary-as-shit claws. There's no way he's going to take that lying down. What is she playing at? If she gets me killed I am never going to forgive her for this. I only just got out of the clink for crying out loud.

  In response Mal uses her hair to shake her head. He won't let this go. No way. Releasing her hair and throwing her head back to the floor he says, 'Now, now, now,' in a condescending tone. He looks like he's calmed down, but I know that is not the case. This is the eye of the storm and the shit is about to hit the fan. Sure enough, the man keeps going. 'You're going to pay for that little outburst, sweetheart. Remember how I make you pay when you really upset me? We haven't done that for a long time, have we? Maybe it's time we revisited that little number.'

  She seems to come around then. Her head snaps up to look at him, and she almost cowers backwards as she says, 'No, you promised.' Her words are a mere whisper.

  'My promises don't mean shit any more,' he retorts. 'If you don't play nicely I'm not going to play nicely. Simple as.' He dusts his hands off in front of her. Harper immediately begins shaking.

  'No. I can't go through that again. No. No, no, no. I'll do anything you want. Name it.' She hunkers down on the floor in a small ball, as if that is somehow going to save her. Something is freaking her out. The question is: what?

  Mal's attention is no longer on her though. It's on me. What does he want now?

  'Tie her to the bed!' he barks. I want to roll my eyes. The poor girl has spent most of her time here tied to the bed while I've spanked, whipped, caned, flogged or paddled her. She hasn't made a single complaint. Sure, she's screamed and cried like a baby, but not once has she uttered a word to try and stop me. Mal always finishes the evening off. Sometimes he lets her come, and she does - like a fucking steam train, over and over again. Other times he leaves her sobbing for release. When the lights go off and he's long gone, I sort her out. It's not much, but it's the least I can do to make up for the hours of torture I've put her through.

  Hauling her back on the bed, which isn't the easiest as she's now a dead weight, I carefully cuff her hands to the headboard. Her wrists are already ringed with bright pink sores from where she's pulled against them.

  'That's it. Do her legs too. You need to make sure she's firmly secured. She's going to thrash around like crazy in a minute. Trust me.' My back is to him, and I swear my eyes light up like the fires of hell because Harper looks at me and smiles. She smiles, dammit, like I'm about to read her a bedtime story. Fuck it. I can't take much of this.

  The next thing I hear is the door slamming, and at least I can breathe a little easier for the moment. I have no idea where Mal's gone, but he'll be getting something nasty - guaranteed.

  'Do you want me to take him out? I can do it in less than ten seconds. Boom. My foot will crack that asshole's skull in two, and yeah the goons will come running but there's a chance we might make it. I can't keep hurting you like this. I'm starting to get acid reflux at the thought.'

  Harper snorts as if this is funny.

  'I'm serious,' I say. 'Either three-day old pizza is giving me indigestion or I'm developing a conscience in my old age. I'm hoping it's the former, otherwise I'm losing my touch.'

  'As if you could. You just have to look at women to melt their panties right off them. Yeah, you like to play the tough guy, but inside you're all gooey marshmallow really.' She bites her lip as she speaks. She obviously finds the conversation amusing. How she can find humour in this situation is beyond me.

  'Fluffy marshmallow, huh?' My expression is wry and she snorts again. 'You'd better have a good explanation for what you just pulled back there, or I will show you what I'm really made of, and you won't like it much.' I raise my eyebrows and give her a look that makes men twice my size wobble at the knees. It does fuck all to Harper, of course.

  'Oh, ye of litt
le faith. We need to get to Brandt before Mal does. If he gets that thing to the police he'll be inside for twenty years or more. We're running out of time. You wanted a distraction, right? Well, Mal's about to bring a shit load of psychotropic drugs in here. Your job is to shove some of those into his bottle of Jack. It only came to me a moment ago, but it's the only thing I can think of so let's run with it. You'll still have to deal with the goons outside, but hopefully we'll figure something out.'

  I only hear half of what she's just said because I'm focusing on the 'psychotropic drugs' part. 'He's going to slip you something nasty?' I want to know what we're dealing with.

  She nods. 'Yes. He used to do it to me a long time ago, when he was trying to get me to kill Alex. The stuff is awful. It causes me to hallucinate something wicked, and I'm going to get freaky on you.' She shrugs. 'The good news is that I'm a ninety-pound weakling. Mal might be more difficult to handle, and I won't be able to help you. Just make sure you kill the fucker. If you have to leave me here, fine; but make sure he's dead. Promise me you'll go get Brandt.'

  I do no such thing. 'You're coming with me. There is no way I'm leaving you here, and that's the last I want to hear about it.' When she bites her lip and gives me a mournful look I nearly lose it. 'I mean it; not another word.' My face goes hard and she gets the message. 'I don't care if you scratch my eyes out after taking whatever shit he's going to give you or if you try to hit me with all you have. I'll drag you out of here kicking and screaming if I have to, but I'm not leaving without you. Brandt would kill me.'

  'Fine, have it your way,' she says, batting her eyelashes and rattling her handcuffs theatrically, 'but you should know you're not going to look so pretty tomorrow morning.' She sticks her tongue out at me. Honestly. How can she make jokes at a time like this? There is no doubt in my mind she is the strongest woman I know.

  My tongue is firmly in my cheek as I answer her. 'It's doubtful, seeing as you're rather tied up at the moment. But if you do manage to lump me one, you'll be doing me a favour. It's a pain having women draped around my shoulders everywhere I go.' Hey, if she can joke, I can too. I don't smile though.